


The Kings and the Brothel

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [27]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my previous story, The Kings and the Unexpected Letter, Thorin and Thranduil visited Dis in Ered Luin.  Now, on their way home to Erebor, they somehow finish up in a brothel.  And, in this unsavoury place, they come across a most unexpected punter!</p><p> </p><p>Part of my Two Kings series but can be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Brothel

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Brothel

 

Pt I

 

Just Tied Up for the Moment

 

“Are you sure this is all right?” asked Thranduil.

 

“Yes,” sighed Thorin.

 

“And you’re not feeling too uncomfortable?”

 

“Of course I’m feeling uncomfortable,” snapped the dwarven king.  “I thought that was the whole object of the exercise.”

 

The elf looked a little doubtful.  “And so you don’t mind if I tighten this just a little bit?”

 

“Go ahead,” said Thorin curtly.  “You must as well take advantage of my ‘anything for you, my love,’ mood.  But,” he added, “you’d better move along pretty sharpish before I change my mind.”  And he gave his lover a sour look.

 

Thranduil moved forward to quickly tighten the ropes at Thorin’s wrists and then stood back to study the way that the dwarf was practically dangling from a tree, his arms raised above his head and strapped to an overhead branch whilst his toes barely touched the ground.  He was dressed only in a shirt that hung open all the way down the front and exposed most of his body.  The elven king paused to admire the way that his lover’s muscled form strained against the restraints and his hand reached out to cup his genitals.  “May I offer you some support,” he said graciously but with a huge grin.  And he squeezed the dwarf’s balls and lifted them firmly.

 

“Get on with it,” said Thorin grumpily.  He was beginning to lose patience.  When Thranduil had asked politely if he could tie him to the tree for a bit of love-making as they travelled through an isolated area of the foothills of the Misty Mountains, he had reluctantly agreed.  He didn’t like being bound, especially after his sojourn some years ago when he had been chained in the Mirkwood dungeons, but he had agreed for his lover’s sake.

 

Thranduil laughed delightedly and began to strip off his own clothes whilst Thorin dangled there and thought of his farewell to Dis when he had left Ered Luin for the Lonely Mountain once more.  His widowed sister had married the elf lord, Damaril, and the two kings had travelled all the way to the dwarven halls of Ered Luin to make sure that her decision had been the right one.  Satisfied, they had attended the wedding and now they were trekking back to their own home.

 

Before he left, Thorin had taken his sister to one side.  “You are happy, aren’t you?” he asked with some concern.

 

Dis’ eyes had shone.  “Of course I am,” she had said with a radiant smile.

 

“And, umm, everything’s all right in the – erm - bedroom department?” he questioned, a tad uncomfortably.

 

She gave him a hug and giggled.  “Why do you even need to ask?  Can’t you see it in my face?”

 

“Well, you know,” he said, fidgeting a bit on the spot.  “Elf/dwarf.  Dwarf/elf.”

 

Dis snorted with laughter.  “So, are you telling me that you two have problems in the – erm - ‘bedroom department’?”  And she swung upon his neck gleefully, chuckling at the thought.

 

She seemed like a young girl again and Thorin had been glad for her, but, as he dangled there from the tree, he was, indeed, wondering about his own elf/dwarf compatibility.  This really wasn’t his thing.

 

Thranduil was now standing there with only an open shirt on too and his arousal was very apparent.  But, all Thorin could think about was the way that the ropes were cutting into his wrists.

 

The elven king touched the dwarf’s beard and then brushed his lips very delicately with his own.  His fingers ran slowly down to the broad chest, now flexing under the strain, and he carefully rolled a nipple beneath the palm of his hand.  “Aahh!” he groaned and his stiff cock brushed against the dwarven king’s belly.  Thorin waited expectantly for the elf to lift a leg high over his hip and to thrust deep inside him.

 

Instead, he trailed a light finger down to his navel and then walked slowly behind him, the finger tracing a path over his hip, waist and buttock beneath the loosened shirt.  Thorin shuddered as Thranduil left a butterfly kiss on the nape of his neck.  The dwarf could feel him breathing hotly on his throat and then his fingers separated his buttocks and, running between his thighs, grasped him by the genitals.  He swung gently by his wrists and the elf squeezed and fondled him until, at last, he grew hard.

 

“That took a long time,” Thranduil whispered in his ear, pressing his own hardness into Thorin’s buttocks.

 

“You try feeling aroused when you’re swinging by your wrists from a tree,” was the snarling reply.

 

Thranduil laughed softly and finally pushed into Thorin from behind, lifting him from the ground with his thrusts and relieving some of the pressure on his wrists.  The elf had him firmly by the hips and, as his pounding grew faster, they both closed their eyes and concentrated on the increasing pleasure.

 

So it was, unaware of anything else, they failed to recognise the approaching danger until Thranduil’s prick was suddenly ripped unceremoniously from Thorin’s backside.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

Truly Tied Up

 

“Where am I?” moaned Thranduil as he opened his eyes painfully.

 

“In a prison wagon,” said Thorin curtly.  Then: “Are you all right?”

 

What?” was the elf’s confused response as his eyes began to adjust to the gloom.  And then he realised that they were, indeed, in some kind of covered wooden wagon, bumping along the road.  There were two small windows, high up, and they were barred; Thorin was sitting opposite him; their wrists and ankles were bound and his head hurt…..quite a lot.  Both he and Thorin were still only dressed in their shirts.

 

There was another young man seated next to the dwarf who gave him a sympathetic grin.  “You’ve been captured by traders,” he said, “who traffic in slaves as a side-line.  We’re off to Bree and we’ll be sold to the male brothel there.”

 

“What?” stuttered Thranduil again.  He was just waiting to wake up from what appeared to be a bad dream.

 

“We didn’t notice their approach,” offered Thorin, “because we were – umm – otherwise engaged.”  The young man gave a snort.  “They clubbed you around the back of the head and we were both thrown into this wagon with young Raymond here.  They’ve got our horses, weapons, money, everything.”

 

The elf suddenly noticed that Raymond wasn’t bound and asked him suspiciously why this was.  “Oh,” said the lad, “that’s because I’m here voluntarily.”

 

“What?” said the elven king for a third time.

 

“Yes, my family needs the money and so I have sold myself as a bonded servant to the traders for a year and a day.  They are passing me on to the brothel.  There could be worse places to work.”  He said this with a certain amount of equanimity and Thranduil shook his head in disbelief.

 

“Do these people know who we are?” the elf asked Thorin indignantly.  “They’ll soon let us go when they do.” 

 

Thorin responded by giving him a surreptitious shake of his head.  But the lad immediately asked curiously:  “Well, who are you, then?”

 

“O, erm, we’re quite well-known in our communities,” put in Thorin before Thranduil could say anything.  “I can imagine that people will come looking for us if we just disappear.”

 

Raymond laughed.  “Well, they can look all they like but I doubt if they’ll find you tucked away in some brothel in Bree.  So, don’t expect any help from that quarter.  Just grit your teeth, go through the motions and look out for a chance to escape, that’s my recommendation.”

 

“I have no intention of going through any of these ‘motions’,” said the elven king in his snottiest voice, “and I don’t see how they can make me.”

 

The lad gave him a pitying look.  “You elves don’t know much about the big, wide world, do you?”  And Thranduil suddenly felt very young and innocent for all his years.

 

The wagon eventually stopped – “They’re making food,” said Raymond – and, after half an hour, a thug of a man opened the back door and three plates of food and a jug of water were pushed inside.  “They feed us quite well,” added the lad.  “They don’t want to deliver spoiled goods.”  The elf and the dwarf struggled to eat with bound hands but Raymond helped them along, cutting it up into bite-size pieces.

 

They seemed to travel like this for days but finally the wagon stopped at the back door of the brothel on the fringes of Bree, a rough crossroads of a place, a bit like Dale had been; but, without the wealth and sophistication of a nearby Erebor, it was a lot less civilised.

 

The two kings were pulled out and were half dragged, half carried down into the basement where a number of prison cages had been installed with their backs to a stone wall.  There, the two kings were put into separate cages with a leg chained to the wall and, at last, they were released from their bonds.

 

There were just the two of them in the basement and they sat there, rubbing their wrists and ankles.  “Well, how do we get out of this one?” muttered Thorin.  “If we tell them who we are, they will either demand some massive ransom or they will be worried about revenge and just kill us as the safest option.”

 

“And if they don’t kill us?”

 

“They will want their money’s worth after what they have paid the traffickers and they’ll work us until we drop.  Raymond was right.  Our only option is to pretend that we accept our fate and escape when we have the opportunity.”

 

The lad appeared soon after this, carrying food and drink.  “I’ve got quite a nice room,” he said, grimacing at their surroundings.  “I signed a contract, of course, before I became a bonded servant and that protects me to a certain extent.”  Then he sat down for a good gossip.  “There’s a lot of excitement upstairs,” he continued, “that they have an elf and a dwarf.  Very unusual.  You’ll both be very popular and the owner is rubbing his hands with glee at the amount of money he’s going to make out of you.”

 

“And what if we don’t want to earn all this money for him?” snapped Thranduil.  “What will he do about it?”

 

“I expect he has various means of persuasion,” said Raymond vaguely.  He went off then to fetch jugs of hot water, together with bowls, soap and towels.  Some of their own clean clothing was also passed through the bars to them.  The two kings were torn between making themselves presentable as a favour to their new owner and the strong urge to be clean.  In the end, they succumbed and had a good wash. 

 

They spent several days like this, just kicking their heels, trying to concoct an escape plan and picking up information from Raymond when he brought them their food or their hot water.

 

“Why isn’t anything happening yet?” asked Thranduil. 

 

“The owner is building up interest in you two,” said the lad.  “He wants you to be so much in demand that he can charge the highest possible rates.  In a few days, he expects the queue to be wrapped twice around the block.  Many will be intrigued by the idea of a beautiful elf.  The owner’s pushing your good looks too,” he added, nodding at the dwarf.

 

“What about you?” asked Thorin with concern.  “Are you all right?”

 

Raymond shrugged.  “I’ve had a few customers so far.  I’m not expected to take on too many in the course of the day, so it hasn’t been too bad, I suppose.”  But he looked away quickly as he spoke.  And then he left a nicely cooked evening meal for them and, for a change, a glass of wine each.  Thorin remembered nothing else until he awoke in a room upstairs.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

Chained Up Instead

 

He was naked and spreadeagled, chained face down on a bed.  A middle-aged man with a hard face was sitting calmly by the side of the bed, waiting for him to regain full consciousness.  Thorin shook the fuzziness from his head:  “You put something in the wine,” he muttered.

 

The man raised an eyebrow:  “How else did you expect me to put you to work, a powerful dwarf like you?”  And he delicately touched one of Thorin’s huge biceps.  “You’re not exactly a willing participant.”

 

Thorin pulled on the chains at his wrists for a moment and then gave up.  He could feel how strong they were.  “I’m surprised that you can be bothered with a potential trouble-maker like me,” he said softly.  “If I break free, I shall kill you – you must know that.”

 

The man shrugged.  “ _If_ is a big word,” he replied.  “And, in the meantime, I intend to make a huge amount of money from you and your friend.  It’s worth the small risk involved.  Now, you can run with the idea and perhaps earn your freedom or I can work you until your balls drop off.”

 

“Ah,” said Thorin with a grim smile, “so you promise to free me if I’m a good boy?  I prefer to fight you all the way.”  And he turned his back on him and refused to speak any more.

 

The brothel-owner rose from his chair.  “The elf is in the next room,” he said equably.  “I thought you would like to hear each other’s screams and your customers’ cries of ecstasy.”

 

Thorin lay there for at least an hour before anything happened.  It was dark by now and the lamp in the room was turned down very low.  And so, when someone finally entered the room through the door behind him, he couldn’t turn his head far enough nor was there sufficient light for him to make out who it was.  He wondered if it was the brothel-keeper come back to torment him, or if it was one of his thugs, sent to break him in or if it was his first punter.  His body tensed as someone climbed onto the bed and kneeled between his thighs.

 

A pair of hands touched him lightly, stroking his hair and exploring his body.   They lingered on his arms and then ran over his muscled back, eventually sweeping down to his round buttocks.  A little sigh escaped from the lips of what was obviously a customer.  No violence yet, at least, thought the dwarf, gritting his teeth and waiting for it all to be over. 

 

For a while, the unknown client kneaded his behind and then he stretched out fully on top of him and, gently pulling his hair to one side, kissed him on the neck.  Thorin’s main response was to feel relief: the naked body was light.  A young man, then, and not some burly thug.  The youth had a stiff erection which he rested along the crack between the dwarf’s buttocks.  Then he reached around and under him to grasp Thorin’s limp cock.  The king’s instinctive response was to buck in an attempt to throw him off and move out of the reach of the groping hand, but he was held so firmly by the chains that it was pointless to struggle.

 

One hand continued to squeeze the dwarf’s cock whilst the other slipped down between his buttocks where two, or maybe three fingers, forced their way into his body.  They seemed to know what they were doing, scissoring to stretch his entrance and then searching for that sensitive spot.  Thorin’s heart sank.  It looked as though he would be forced to face the ignominy of an uncontrollable erection and perhaps an orgasm.  And, as that thought passed through his mind, the fingers made him gasp and his prick sprang to life.  There was a quiet but triumphant chuckle in his ear: the fingers pressed harder, the hand stroked faster and his entrance was stretched wider until finally, the punter’s own swollen member was thrust inside Thorin’s body.

 

The ride was fast and insistent and, as the dwarven king feared, the feeling of urgency and a desperate desire for release began to build within him.  He tried to resist but the penetrating prick drove again and again into the sensitive spot until the dwarf could resist no longer and, with a groan, he came into the sheets beneath him.  His rider shouted gleefully and, increasing his speed to a frantic pace, he finally came himself and collapsed, panting, his chest heaving, on top of the dwarf’s powerful body.

 

“My, oh my,” he exclaimed, “that was a good one.”

 

Thorin froze as the pieces of the puzzle came together: the small, light body, the high-pitched, familiar voice, the way he had driven into him like a rabbit, the large, hairy feet that were currently tickling his own.  “Bilbo!” he roared in disgust.

 

“Thorin?!” was the astonished reply.  “Goodness!  What are you doing here?  Is it for a bet or something?  Or, no – don’t tell me – I don’t mean to pry – is this your kink?”  And he gave the chains a tug.

 

“Is this my - ?”  And if Thorin had had his hands free, he would have knocked him across the room.  “Get off me at once, you idiot!  Can’t you see I’m being held here against my will?”

 

“Well, no,” replied the hobbit, “in a place like this, nothing is necessarily obvious.”

 

“And I can’t believe that you frequent brothels!” the dwarf continued to shout.  “Or that you’ve finished up giving me a fuck!”

 

“Better than some big bloke with an even bigger prick who likes it rough, I suppose,” came the calm retort.

 

“ _Will_ you get off me?!” yelled Thorin in exasperation.

 

“Oh, umm, yes,” replied Bilbo and he slid off the dwarf’s back to lie by his side.

 

“I come here now and again, you know,” he offered by way of explanation.  “I decided some time ago that I didn’t want to spend my whole life without popping my cork, so to speak.  And, when I heard that they were offering a dwarf, well, you know, I was first in the queue.  I’ve bought you for the whole night.”

 

“I’m afraid,” snapped Thorin, “that you’ve already had your night’s worth!”

 

“Shame,” grinned Bilbo.  “Do I get a refund?  But, I must admit that the fuck I got was an absolute belter.”

 

“That non-consensual fuck, you mean, also known as rape?” was the angry retort.

 

“That’s not how I see it,” said Bilbo.  “You didn’t object – you made no attempt even to throw me off - and I thought you were willing.  The fact that you were chained to the bed means nothing in this sort of place.”

 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed.  “And what’s this thing you have about dwarves?”

 

The little hobbit sighed.  “You must know that my thing for dwarves is all about my thing for you.  Don’t you remember that night in your sleeping roll?  I’ll never forget it.”

 

“No,” growled the dwarven king.  “I shan’t forget it either.  You crawl under my blanket for a quick grope and I tell you I’m not interested.  Obviously it wasn’t a case of message understood.”

 

Bilbo was indignant.  “I haven’t touched you since – well, except for tonight – and I didn’t know it was you!  But, can’t a hobbit have his fantasies?”

 

“Why are we even having this conversation?” Thorin snarled.  “Go and find the keys and get me out of this.  And check up on Thranduil next door.  Have you still got that ring?”

 

Bilbo pulled on his clothes and dipping into the pocket of his waistcoat he produced it with a flourish.  “The guard in the corridor has probably got them,” he said.  And slipping the ring on his finger, he made his way from the room.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

Free At Last!

 

Five minutes later, he came hurrying back into the room.  “I’ve got them,” he said, waving a bunch of keys.  “It’s been like an action replay of our barrel escape.  These were hanging on the wall behind the guard who’s a bit drunk.   Made things easy.”

 

“And Thranduil?” Thorin asked, as the hobbit released him.

 

“Umm,” said Bilbo.  “I’m afraid that a big bloke’s in there screwing him at the moment – looks quite painful.  Time for a bit of violence, don’t you think?”

 

Thorin did think.  He flung on his clothes which were folded in a tidy pile on a chair in the corner and looked around for a weapon.  He picked up a very heavy brass candlestick and hefted it approvingly in his hand.  A minute later, the pair of them were dragging an unconscious punter off a chained Thranduil’s back and Thorin moved speedily to release him.

 

A relieved elven king was nearly in tears.  He was bleeding and there were bite marks and bruises on his delicate skin.  Thorin held him tightly to his breast.  “You’re safe now,” he whispered, “and Bilbo’s here to help us too.”

 

“Bilbo?!” was the startled response.

 

“Er….. don’t ask,” said the dwarf.

 

Thorin gently helped his lover into his clothes and winced when he saw the painful damage to his body.  “Did you have a bad time too?” the elf asked him with some concern.

 

“Umm, not too bad.  My one was too small to hurt me really,” he said, giving the hobbit a side-long glance.

 

Bilbo looked insulted.

 

They checked the window in Thorin’s room which was on the first floor and only a short jump to the ground.  “You two get the horses saddled,” said Thorin and I’ll retrieve our swords from the brothel-owner.”  He saw the pair safely out of the window and then turned back into the room with a grim expression on his face.

 

.o00o.

 

The elf and the hobbit had just finished saddling the horses when the dwarf appeared with the swords.  “Good,” nodded Bilbo, “but we’d better get out of here pretty sharpish before we’re hunted down by the owner and his thugs.”

 

“Somehow, I don’t think that is going to happen,” said Thorin, wiping a bloody Orcrist on a horse blanket.  But they still galloped away swiftly, making for Rivendell where they felt they could all rest in safety.  There, a concerned Elrond invited Bilbo to stay for a while and he re-equipped the two kings ready for their journey again after a few days’ recuperation.  Bilbo gave them both a big hug when it was time for them to part, but he muttered in Thorin’s ear: “Don’t worry – I shan’t tell anyone – but that was such a splendid screw!”  And he gave the dwarf a surreptitious pat on his behind.  “Great bum!” he added.  Thorin felt like punching him on the nose but he returned the hug.  Bilbo had been a good and stalwart friend and, without him, they might still be prisoners at the brothel.

 

Their camp site before they crossed the Misty Mountains was near the tree where they had both been captured.  They lay in each other’s arms but hadn’t made love because Thranduil was still too tender.  “When you tie me up again,” laughed Thorin gently, “I think we must make sure that we keep our eyes open.”

 

“I shall never tie you up again,” replied Thranduil vehemently.  “I felt so helpless and vulnerable chained to that bed: the thought of tying anyone up, especially the one I love, just makes me feel sick.”  And he placed a passionate and contrite kiss on the dwarf’s lips.

 

“But,” he added (and Thorin always hated ‘buts’), “what on earth was Bilbo doing in that brothel?”

 

Thorin had a story ready.  He did think about saying that the hobbit had heard that the services of a dwarf and elf were available in the brothel and that he had come to Bree to check out the situation because he had felt concerned.  But, in the end, he told the truth: too many secrets and lies had already caused some serious arguments.  “Bilbo sometimes uses the brothel,” he said, “and he was my first punter.”

 

Thranduil laughed as he imagined the scene.  “He must have been quite taken aback when he walked into the room and saw you chained to the bed.  But, what a lucky coincidence!”

 

“Umm, well, it took him some time to realise it was me – and for me to realise it was him,” muttered Thorin.

 

There was a long moment of silence.

 

“How long?”  And when the dwarf didn’t answer: “Was it before or after the event?”

 

“After,” Thorin finally admitted.

 

“I’ll kill him,” yelled Thranduil, scrambling out of the bedroll.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?” sighed Thorin, grabbing him by the ankle.

 

“Back to Rivendell,” he shouted.  “Where else?”

 

The dwarf finally managed to drag the elf back down beside him.  “Stop struggling,” he commanded.  “Don’t be foolish.  It happened… but then he helped us to escape.”

 

Thranduil was still struggling but more feebly now.  “Tell me what he did to you,” he snapped.  “Did he suck your cock?  Did he fuck you?  How long did it last?  I want every detail.”

 

“And what would that achieve except to make you miserable?” reasoned Thorin.

 

The elven king had a sudden thought.  “You came didn’t you?  You enjoyed it and he made you come?”   And when Thorin was silent, he cried, “It’s true, isn’t it?  You came!”

 

“Our Bilbo,” said the dwarven king at last, “is not as innocent as he looks.  He knew which buttons to press and I came in spite of myself.”  And when the elf struggled to be free of his arms once more, he asked: “What would you rather had happened to me? Bilbo or some big brute of a fellow like the one who was practically splitting you in two when I hit him with that candlestick?”

 

Thranduil subsided and buried his face in the dwarf’s throat.  Thorin could feel tears trickling down his neck and he kissed the top of his head.  Then another thought suddenly occurred to the elven king and he jerked his face up again: “Why did he buy a dwarf for the evening?” he hissed.

 

Thorin ran a gentle finger down his cheek.  “Why do you think?”

 

“Because he lusts after you and he fantasises about fucking you.  And tonight he got his wish.”

 

“And you lusted after me for 60 years and, in the end, you got your wish – repeatedly,” said Thorin quietly, kissing his lover on the end of his nose.  “Come on: let me help you to forget that awful night.”

 

Thranduil was still too bruised for much but the dwarf rolled him on his back and kissed his lips, then his throat, then a nipple; after that he swept his tongue around his deep navel until he felt a prodding in his cheek.  He laughed and turned his face, sucking the insistent erection into his mouth.  “How about a Thorin Special?” he grinned and he swallowed him deep down into his throat.

 

Later, after the powerful pulsing had ceased, the dwarf drew a sleepy Thranduil gently into his great arms.  The elf snuggled into him.  “That was nice,” he said.  But, on the verge of sleep, he murmured: “Is he bigger than me?”

 

“What!” said Thorin.

 

“You know, like, big feet, big prick.  And he’s got very big feet.”

 

Thorin didn’t answer but compressed his lips in irritation.

 

“And,” persisted the elf, “was your orgasm better with him than with me?”

 

“Thranduil,” said the dwarf.  “Do you want to know something?”

 

“Yes,” replied the elven king, raising his eyes to Thorin’s beautiful face in expectation of an informative answer.

 

“You talk too much!  Now, just shut up and go to sleep!”

 

.o00o.

 

**Oh dear, something/someone else for them to argue about.  The Thorin/Thranduil/Bilbo triangle will be continued in a later episode.**

**I’m sorry if Bilbo doesn’t seem very apologetic about his moment with Thorin but he’s always so pragmatic and sensible in his reactions: even Thorin has managed to forgive him for something that was really unpleasant.**

**I hope that, if you missed it, you will go back to the previous story, _The Kings and the Unexpected Letter_ , to find out what brought them to Ered Luin in the first place.  Thank you so much for reading this one.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
